He wasn't sure how much time had passed when the first buzz of awareness intruded upon his sleep. Jim didn't wake, but part of him, at least, was aware of Spock's approach. He shifted against the two men, throwing an arm over one and a leg over the other in a tangled sprawl.
He probably should have thought of at least cleaning up before anyone else came home. But there was only so much a girl could deal with at one time.
Jim blinked up at Spock, shaken from deep sleep but curiously alert. He'd never had trouble waking, and it had only been encouraged by his training. And perhaps the bond did something too. At any rate, it was only a moment before realization of where he was kicked in and he extricated himself, wincing as he rose and felt the first indication that there was a price for his excesses, much as there was for any athletic pursuit worth doing.
It occurred to him a little belatedly that they should have discussed some ground rules regarding location and the like. He grabbed the sundress from the floor and wrapped it around himself, tossing his hair from the collar. Spock wasn't giving him much, but none of it was anger. He scrubbed his face with one hand and nodded them over to the side of the room.
"You've got all the time you want," he murmured. Though he may need to use the head fairly soon, Jim reflected. "What's wrong?"
Spock followed, allowed herself a moment of closeness that would be inappropriate between two officers on duty and reached out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind Jim's ear.
"I have... acquired information regarding your counterpart James Kirk."
Her own appearance was, doubtless, rumpled. Jim, however, looked exhausted.
"You require more rest, t'hy'la."
Perhaps some oatmeal for breakfast would help Jim regain his color.
Jim did not want oatmeal. Sleep would be nice, and a shower was paramount, but he was fine. Still basking, a little, in the afterglow of a very satisfying evening.
Spock, though, Jim was starting to note, looked... different. Not quite in-place, as if... His eyes widened. He didn't have Vulcan senses, but even he could tell when someone had gotten dressed in a hurry.
"I'm fine," he said. He glanced at the bed. "Just, ah, yes. Good tired." He wanted to burrow against Spock, absurdly, the love he felt for him--her--only heightened by his mood and threatening to overflow. "What's going on?" He frowned. "Did he... did he try something?"
Sleep, a shower, and oatmeal. Spock thought it would be precisely what their Leonard would prescribe, were he here.
For now, though, Spock contented herself with responding to the clear signals through their bond, moving even closer until she stood close enough to rub the tip of her nose along Jim's cheek.
"He attempted only what I directed. I had thought that, as your Bill Shatner has been discomforted by my transformation, he would be a suitable substitute and candidate for experimentation."
Jim froze. And blinked. And otherwise looked, for the moment, at a loss for words. "I... you..." He tried again. He was leaking down his inner thigh and the bizarre sensation distracted him further.
"You had... you went... You fucked James?" His voice had risen slightly, but not much. He was still trying to work this out. It suddenly occurred to him that, for whatever reason, he just hadn't imagined Spock going out and having sex with other people. He hadn't done it before, to Jim's knowledge. And it wasn't that he was jealous, or angry, or disappointed. In fact, he was more startled by his own surprise. And yet, it just seemed... surreal. Spock had gone out, and had sex with a man who was identical to him, and yet whom Jim hated unaccountably.
The complexity of Jim's response startled her, made Spock step back.
"I merely wished to investigate an occurrence I experienced during intercourse with Len; the most suitable candidates were the human males who bore the most resemblance to you - the emotional state of our Leonard's double rendered him an inappropriate choice."
Her hands fluttered between them, uncertain where to land, where not to touch.
He took a deep breath, Spock's own response serving to anchor him a little and resolve his own feelings.
"No," he said honestly. "No, I'm not angry. I was surprised. I... understand. What you were trying to do. And it's sort of flattering, in a way. It's not as though I haven't sought out my own experiences." He desperately wanted to ask Spock about that occurrence, about what he was looking for. He had sensed that something had troubled him, afterward, but Spock had been tight-lipped on the subject. Now Jim realized he had been loathe to speculate without further data.
Logical.
"But James," he said. "I don't trust him, I don't like him, and while I'd never say either of those things gives me any right to dictate your actions, I just... wasn't expecting that." He reached out, closed the small distance between them with a reassuring gesture. What he'd just been up to was no reflection on Spock. Nor did this have anything to do with him. "But you said you learned something?" Not, he presumed, the answer to his query. Or not solely,
( ... )
She was slower to relax this time but Jim's mind echoed his words.
"It is, I am quite certain, due only to the physical contact we shared that I was able to recognize him. Jim, you have met him before, visited his universe of origin."
Jim's entire expression changed. Because he knew, knew instantly what Spock meant, and everything he had sensed and suspected about James was finally coalescing into a recognizable shape. One he had every reason, every right, to hate. And to even think of that man, wearing his face, his skin, touching his Spock, his Tina--
"WHAT?" He could not keep his voice down, though the timbre was very different from the last time he'd raised it. He trembled, as if on the point of racing to find the man and pummel his stolen face into putty.
Leonard had always been a fairly light sleeper, and although the gentle tones of their continued conversation hadn't woken him, Jim's outmost did, in an instant.
It was difficult to ascertain the cause behind it as easily, however; Spock more difficult to read than ever, in her current form. His muscles protested slightly at the swiftness with which Leonard forced himself from recumbent to upright, slipping into his trousers along the way.
"What's wrong?" he questioned as he approached them, more than a note of hesitation to his voice. They were, after all, technically intruding on space that wasn't theirs. "Do you need us to leave?"
Bill, bless him, was still fast asleep. Leonard was firmly convinced he could manage to slumber peacefully through a natural catastrophe, and be none the wiser when he woke to a trashed building, if he wanted to.
Jim whirled around to see Len, a look of chagrin crossing his face. He'd forgotten.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to wake you." He ran a hand through his hair. "Just some... some bad news." Nothing new, nothing but Tina and my life partner slept with my-and-Bill's evil twin, but it was agitating him considerably. "There's no need to go, it's not..." The wetness between his thighs was not something he wanted to deal with right now. "Don't go. I need to wash this off."
Spock nodded at Len, uncertain still. Jim's satisfaction had been a steady hum at the back of her mind all evening, whispered words of love, and then the comfortable weight of sleep even as Spock carried out her own plans. It had not occurred to her that Jim would be... surprised by Spock's actions.
Later.
The matter of importance, James's identity, had been shared.
Jim turned back to Spock, his expression stricken. "No, no. Spock, you're not bothering anyone. This is your room too. I just... Fuck. I need to get my head around this." He took a deep breath. "He didn't hurt you," he reconfirmed unnecessarily.
Loud noises did not, as Len knew, tend to wake Bill up. If it were only a question of noise and gentle movement - say, 'gentle' up to a three or four on the Richter scale - then he might easily have slept on. But other things, things like Irritating Early Morning Hunger and Sudden Need To Pee, were fully capable of prodding him awake before he wanted to be.
On this occasion, the culprit was most definitely Vague All-Over Chill, which was not a symptom that should have afflicted a man who had gone to bed tangled post-coitally with two other people.
He had struggled up into a sitting position before he fully worked out what had gone wrong.
He was no longer in a bed with two other people.
He was, in fact, on a bed, most definitely on his own, while two hot girls had a heated discussion with each other on the far side of the room, and his Person hovered nearby. He was also a) naked and b) sort of covered in bodily secretions that should probably have been washed off prior to succumbing to sleep.
He probably should have thought of at least cleaning up before anyone else came home. But there was only so much a girl could deal with at one time.
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They were, it was to be admitted, quite aesthetically beautiful.
"Captain, I require a moment of your attention."
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It occurred to him a little belatedly that they should have discussed some ground rules regarding location and the like. He grabbed the sundress from the floor and wrapped it around himself, tossing his hair from the collar. Spock wasn't giving him much, but none of it was anger. He scrubbed his face with one hand and nodded them over to the side of the room.
"You've got all the time you want," he murmured. Though he may need to use the head fairly soon, Jim reflected. "What's wrong?"
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"I have... acquired information regarding your counterpart James Kirk."
Her own appearance was, doubtless, rumpled. Jim, however, looked exhausted.
"You require more rest, t'hy'la."
Perhaps some oatmeal for breakfast would help Jim regain his color.
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Spock, though, Jim was starting to note, looked... different. Not quite in-place, as if... His eyes widened. He didn't have Vulcan senses, but even he could tell when someone had gotten dressed in a hurry.
"I'm fine," he said. He glanced at the bed. "Just, ah, yes. Good tired." He wanted to burrow against Spock, absurdly, the love he felt for him--her--only heightened by his mood and threatening to overflow. "What's going on?" He frowned. "Did he... did he try something?"
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For now, though, Spock contented herself with responding to the clear signals through their bond, moving even closer until she stood close enough to rub the tip of her nose along Jim's cheek.
"He attempted only what I directed. I had thought that, as your Bill Shatner has been discomforted by my transformation, he would be a suitable substitute and candidate for experimentation."
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"You had... you went... You fucked James?" His voice had risen slightly, but not much. He was still trying to work this out. It suddenly occurred to him that, for whatever reason, he just hadn't imagined Spock going out and having sex with other people. He hadn't done it before, to Jim's knowledge. And it wasn't that he was jealous, or angry, or disappointed. In fact, he was more startled by his own surprise. And yet, it just seemed... surreal. Spock had gone out, and had sex with a man who was identical to him, and yet whom Jim hated unaccountably.
"You were... Were you looking for me?"
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"I merely wished to investigate an occurrence I experienced during intercourse with Len; the most suitable candidates were the human males who bore the most resemblance to you - the emotional state of our Leonard's double rendered him an inappropriate choice."
Her hands fluttered between them, uncertain where to land, where not to touch.
"I cannot tell, Jim. Are you angry with me?"
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"No," he said honestly. "No, I'm not angry. I was surprised. I... understand. What you were trying to do. And it's sort of flattering, in a way. It's not as though I haven't sought out my own experiences." He desperately wanted to ask Spock about that occurrence, about what he was looking for. He had sensed that something had troubled him, afterward, but Spock had been tight-lipped on the subject. Now Jim realized he had been loathe to speculate without further data.
Logical.
"But James," he said. "I don't trust him, I don't like him, and while I'd never say either of those things gives me any right to dictate your actions, I just... wasn't expecting that." He reached out, closed the small distance between them with a reassuring gesture. What he'd just been up to was no reflection on Spock. Nor did this have anything to do with him. "But you said you learned something?" Not, he presumed, the answer to his query. Or not solely, ( ... )
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"It is, I am quite certain, due only to the physical contact we shared that I was able to recognize him. Jim, you have met him before, visited his universe of origin."
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"WHAT?" He could not keep his voice down, though the timbre was very different from the last time he'd raised it. He trembled, as if on the point of racing to find the man and pummel his stolen face into putty.
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It was difficult to ascertain the cause behind it as easily, however; Spock more difficult to read than ever, in her current form. His muscles protested slightly at the swiftness with which Leonard forced himself from recumbent to upright, slipping into his trousers along the way.
"What's wrong?" he questioned as he approached them, more than a note of hesitation to his voice. They were, after all, technically intruding on space that wasn't theirs. "Do you need us to leave?"
Bill, bless him, was still fast asleep. Leonard was firmly convinced he could manage to slumber peacefully through a natural catastrophe, and be none the wiser when he woke to a trashed building, if he wanted to.
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"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to wake you." He ran a hand through his hair. "Just some... some bad news." Nothing new, nothing but Tina and my life partner slept with my-and-Bill's evil twin, but it was agitating him considerably. "There's no need to go, it's not..." The wetness between his thighs was not something he wanted to deal with right now. "Don't go. I need to wash this off."
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Later.
The matter of importance, James's identity, had been shared.
"Captain? I can leave you if you prefer."
She had not intended intrusion.
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Loud noises did not, as Len knew, tend to wake Bill up. If it were only a question of noise and gentle movement - say, 'gentle' up to a three or four on the Richter scale - then he might easily have slept on. But other things, things like Irritating Early Morning Hunger and Sudden Need To Pee, were fully capable of prodding him awake before he wanted to be.
On this occasion, the culprit was most definitely Vague All-Over Chill, which was not a symptom that should have afflicted a man who had gone to bed tangled post-coitally with two other people.
He had struggled up into a sitting position before he fully worked out what had gone wrong.
He was no longer in a bed with two other people.
He was, in fact, on a bed, most definitely on his own, while two hot girls had a heated discussion with each other on the far side of the room, and his Person hovered nearby. He was also a) naked and b) sort of covered in bodily secretions that should probably have been washed off prior to succumbing to sleep.
Well. This was ( ... )
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